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Installment #4 |
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Living the Dream Now, some people would say to you that living out of a motor vehicle with nothing to do in your life but to drive from world-class climbing destination to world-class climbing destination, and to climb as much as your body can stand it is as good as it gets. Some would refer to it as "Living The Dream." And I'm not going to lie to you; they'd be right. But lost in the translation somewhere is the dark side of the dream. The part where you never get to sit your ass on the same toilet seat twice in the same month. The part where you have to quit drinking because the vans taste for gasoline is more important than your taste for wine. The part where climbing starts to matter way too much because it's all you've got. The part where you have to work for it to still be fun in spite of the fact that half the reason you do it is to avoid work anyways. Of course it's worth it. But as we've traveled we've run into a few people who've just been on the road for too long. People who in their noble attempt to live The Dream, have received the great karmic smackdown. There are many ways for The Dream to come to a screeching halt: Injury, car trouble, poverty, heartbreak, and getting in trouble with the law are a few popular ones. And when it does fall to pieces, you know you had it coming because you've been having entirely too much fun. You can't even be mad at the car for breaking, or the cop for busting you. Because when it comes down to it you're poaching; Taking a second and third helping from the fun table and hoping no one will notice. The following are true stories of dreamers receiving the karmic kick in the ass. They were collected from friends and people we've met on the road. These vignettes prove my theory that anybody can live the dream, but only a few can live through it unscathed. The names have been changed to protect the guilty, but the facts are all there. When it comes your time to punch out, quit society and go on the road, you may think of this as a miniguide to the epic of your choice. Enjoy.
Epic #1 If you choose to have this epic, you must have a retinue of other people with you. These people must have judgement which, although slightly better than your own, doesn't keep them from getting dragged into disaster after disaster by your vastly under developed sense of when to quit. Your first step in having the IACGIAVAGWAGTWWAWWHF epic is to decide that it would be a good idea to climb the North Face of the Eiger in winter. This first step stops most people in their tracks. But have courage and persevere. It will build character.
Next you must choose partners. Used in the past for this epic were: It is important to begin your climb as soon as you arrive. Some people will tell you that you must wait for a "Window of opportunity," in the weather. These people don't fully understand the joy of hacking out ice ledges and digging snow caves. When you begin climbing, go all out. After all, this is the Eiger in winter and if you take too long to get up it you will die. Going all out also ensures that you will get too far in the first day to contemplate retreat. Cutting out the retreat option becomes important when you realize that partner #2 hasn't brought any food, and partner #1 refuses to share his. According to my friend, Eastern European accents become easier to understand at altitude on half your projected calorie intake. The rest of the climb should be a rousing epic unless you forget to pin partner #2's arms to his sides so he can't signal the rescue helicopter every time it flies by. Rescues tend to end epics before they have a chance to fully mature. Next you will obviously want some down time. Summiting the Eiger in winter is no small thing, and perhaps some skiing in France will help you to gain some weight and stop shaking. Unfortunately I forgot to mention that the cardinal rule for a shitty road trip is to go on a shoestring budget. This will mean that instead of a normal rental car, you have to drive over the Alps in a 3-cylinder Yugoslavian car rented to you by a German family too poor to buy gas for it. That is to say that you, partners 1+2, and a months worth of climbing, camping and skiing gear will have to drive over the Alps. And back. This will of course take most of the rest of your trip. Now, when you arrive in the ski town, it is important to come during the holiday season so there is no lodging anywhere. Therefore #1 will sleep under the car (it's too small to sleep inside). #2 will sleep in a refrigerator box. And you will sleep under a tarp tied between headstones in the local cemetery. I suppose it goes without saying that it will rain. Fortunately, you are Clark Griswald and having the time of your life. Finally, on the day you are supposed to leave to drive back over the Alps to catch your flight home on a non-refundable and therefore unchangable ticket, the weather clears and you decide you can drive all night instead of leaving now so you can get in one perfect day of skiing. As you get first tracks on your first run down a magnificent powder basin this seems to be a great idea. When you take the gondola to the top of the mountain for your second run and break a binding putting on your skis, it seems like maybe staying wasn't the thing to do.
Epilogue: Clark and #2 gathered everything they could carry and left. Leaving #1 to return the car to the impoverished Germans. He managed to patch it together enough to get it back to their city, and according to legend the Germans were more than happy to accept the $400 he gave them for wrecking their car. Clark and #2 embarked on a sleepless 36hr bus riding, hitchhiking, border crossing nightmare, carrying more than their own body weight in gear. They made it to the airport only 30 mins before the plane left. According to the lady at the ticket window it was not possible to board the plane so soon before departure. Clark said "thank you," and walked down the gangway onto the plane. Clark works for the government. Your taxes pay his salary.
Epic #2 This epic is really just a long period of torturous suffering, followed by a brief emergence of hope, ending in horrible tragedy with blood, entrails, and fire in the streets. If you have a long-term wish to be a stronger climber, or one fueled by angst, this may be the epic for you. Again you must be too poor to actually be on the road for any reasonable period of time. But this time instead of being a good climber who achieves goals in spite of adversity, you must be a flailing gumby who can climb for 3 months straight with out ever accomplishing anything other than feeling sorry for yourself. You must also have a good-looking, but freakishly promiscuous girlfriend
To begin this epic you (henceforth referred to as Romeo) must start your
3 month roadtrip grossly under-prepared. For example, bring the following: For the first two weeks, things seemed to be going fine. Romeo and his partner (we'll call him Francois) managed to get along by trading driving shifts so as never to be awake in each others company. Then, upon reaching their climbing destination, they managed to meet other climbers to keep them from actually having to interact. However one cold January evening things came to a head over a debate concerning how long pasta should be boiled. Tempers flared, fists flew, and friendships ended. Fortunately no one was injured in the fray as Romeo was weak and Francois was, well, a sport climber. To make themselves feel better Romeo hogged all the overcooked pasta for himself, and Francois went into the desert and purged himself until he felt worthy of living. Thus Romeo began a long saga hitchhiking across the desert southwest. Sometimes meeting friends and having good adventures. But always being cold at night, hungry from only eating oatmeal, beans, and rice, and of course he was weak. Occasionally he would try a different form of climbing, bouldering perhaps to comfort his badly bruised ego. But this never changed the outcome: Flappers and whining. Every week Romeo would scrape together whatever change he could find on the street or on the floor of Las Vegas casinos, and call Juliet. She was always very happy to hear from him (once he reminded her who he was) and begged him to come home to her. But Romeo was steadfast in his desire to stop climbing like a baby giraffe on roller skates, and he rebuffed her entreaties. Although, over time he did begin to wear down and think of what it might be like to spend the long winter nights warm in her embrace rather than lying in the corner of his tiny tent in the fetal position trying to stop his teeth from chattering. Eventually Romeo could go no further from home. He was at the legendary Smith Rock, but there were no routes there that he was able to climb so he felt like leaving. A quick check of the finances showed that he would have to either get a job or head home immediately. So he found a ride home from another climber (a Russian illegal immigrant who spoke no English), and called Juliet to ask if she would take him in until he got some money to get his own place. Surprisingly, Juliet remembered who Romeo was when he called, and was frantic in her requests that he come home immediately. So Romeo and the Russian stormed off on a 60hr cross country blitz, which spent the last of Romeo's money, and was fueled by their inability to communicate (with no way to talk, why not drive?). Unfortunately for Romeo, the 60hr blitz fell over a weekend, so Juliet had the opportunity to attend several frat parties. At one of these parties, Juliet found herself enamored with a member of the football team. So, when the Russian threw Romeo out of the back of his moving car while passing Juliet's house, and Romeo threw a stone to her window to draw her lovely countenance to gaze upon him, he was dismayed by the hairy linebacker who stuck his head out the window and yelled at him to go away. This is where the afore-mentioned blood, entrails, and fire in the streets comes about. After an extended drinking binge financed by those of us who wanted him off our couches, Romeo was forced to move away from the northeast to get away from his tormented past with Juliet. But the angst generated by his sorry encounter with Juliet motivated him to train hard, and last I heard he was quite a good climber.
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